Four Seconds of Peace
by Hikari Kaitou
Summary: A series of fluffy domestic-flavored oneshots focusing on GermanyxN.Italy. Deanon from the kink meme.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi guys. I'm back with another deanonning from the kink meme. The prompt was: This anon is really craving some fluff, preferably either Germany/Italy or America/Lithuania. I'm pretty much looking for simple but cute slice-of-life fluffy nonsense. You know, their daily routines and interactions with each other and others. Something domestic and sweet.

I actually wrote it a couple months ago, but just now got around to fixing the ending. Beware the extreme sappiness. Enjoy!

* * *

Germany emerged from the hot, stuffy attic, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow and took a deep breath of fresh air. It had taken him four hours to straighten up that dark hole of dust and random junk, but he had finally finished the chore. Apparently there was still dust clinging to his clothes because the deep breath he'd taken was released with a sneeze. Germany rubbed his nose and wandered toward the kitchen, looking around for Italy. The two of them had agreed to get caught up on housework today (well, more like Germany had decided that they were going to do it and forced Italy to help). He was taking care of the attic while Italy worked on washing the dishes and countertops in the kitchen and doing the laundry. The kitchen was Italy-free and that put Germany on his guard, but at least it looked like he'd done his kitchen duty like he'd been told.

Germany considered calling for him but decided against it. He preferred to catch Italy red-handed in his slacking. The German man made a stop in their bedroom to change his clothes and wash his face in the attached bathroom. He noted as he passed it that the bed still had no sheets on it and sighed. Italy should have finished washing their bedding by now. The fact that the bed had yet to be made was just one more piece of evidence supporting the theory that Italy had given up on his chores halfway through. Of course this irritated him, but at least Italy had finished half of his work this time; that was actually pretty impressive for Italy.

The blond wiped the water from his face and made his way to the laundry room to see if Italy had at least started washing their bedding. He hesitated in surprise at the scene that greeted him. It appeared that Italy had just been taking the freshly washed sheets from the drier and putting them in the large wicker laundry basket to be brought into the bedroom when his internal clock had told him that he needed a siesta immediately. Italy was curled up in the large laundry basket on top of the clean sheets, fast asleep, a pillow case that he had presumably been in the process of transferring to the basket hanging halfway out of the drier.

Germany shook his head in exasperation but couldn't help smiling. That was such an Italy-like thing to do. He crouched down at his lover's side and brushed his bangs back affectionately before caressing his cheek softly. Italy turned his face toward Germany's gentle touch, a tiny smile tugging at his sleeping lips. The taller man finished transferring the remaining bedding and picked up the basket with Italy still inside, carrying it into the bedroom. He lifted Italy out of the basket and set him in the armchair so that he could make the bed before allowing Italy to continue his nap in a more comfortable place.

As Germany pulled the fitted sheet down over the mattress, he briefly considered joining Italy in his siesta but realized that while he was certainly tired after cleaning the attic, he wasn't really sleepy. Maybe he would stay at Italy's side and read a book instead. Once he had finished putting the last pillow case in its proper place, Germany went to fetch Italy from the chair. He scooped Italy into his arms gently, cradling him against his chest like a child as he moved him to the bed. Just as he was setting Italy down in his spot, the smaller man stirred. His warm amber-colored eyes fluttered open and fixed on Germany.

"Germany… did I fall asleep?" he asked dazedly, rubbing his eyes.

The taller man granted him a soft smile, taking Italy's hand and kissing his knuckles. "Hmph, right in the middle of taking the laundry out of the drier. Nothing gets between you and your siesta, does it?"

"I'm sorry, please don't be mad," Italy said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I really tried to finish what Germany asked me to do."

Germany kissed his lips tenderly. "Do I look mad?" If he would have been able to see his own expression at that moment, he would have blushed at how blatantly love-struck it was.

"Veee, then will Germany take a siesta with me?" Italy asked hopefully.

"I'm not sleepy, but I'll stay with you," Germany acquiesced.

Italy gave him a warm, sunny smile and Germany couldn't resist kissing him again.

"I'll be right back," the German whispered in Italy's ear as he covered him up. "I'm going to get something to read."

Italy settled under the covers, waiting patiently for his lover's return. Even though he didn't look it, Germany was very talented at cuddling. He always held him so gently and stroked and kissed him until he fell asleep. Italy was susceptible to bad dreams at times, but being wrapped in his lover's firm embrace kept them away better than a sleeping pill chased down with glass of warm milk and honey. And sometimes, when Germany was sure that Italy was asleep, he would sing to him softly. Germany wasn't a confident singer; he didn't have much knowledge of special techniques and he didn't always hit the notes just right. To Italy, however, there were very few sweeter sounds in the world than Germany's deep, shy voice serenading him. He eagerly awaited the day that Germany would feel comfortable enough with him to sing to him when he was aware that Italy was awake to listen.

Germany reentered the bedroom with a book in his hand and crawled into bed beside Italy. The smaller man snuggled up close to Germany's muscular body, purring happily as his lover invited him to lie on top of him, his ear resting against his chest so that he could hear the soothing lullaby created by his heartbeat. Warm, strong arms curled around him protectively, and a series of kisses was nuzzled into his hair. Italy let out a little sigh of sheer relaxation, tilting his head up to return the kisses on Germany's throat. His eyes slid closed as broad but gentle hands began to rub his back.

"Goodnight, Germany," Italy breathed as he drifted off. "I… love you…"

Germany blushed slightly at Italy's soft, sleepy declaration. He waited until Italy's breathing had slowed and deepened before replying in an embarrassed mumble. "I… I love you, too, Italy."


	2. Chapter 2

Germany waited until he had come to a full stop at the red light before answering his ringing cell phone.

"Hello, Ludwig Weillschmidt speaking."

His cheeks went warm as his greeting was met with Italy's melodic, honey-sweet laughter.

"Hello, Ludwig Weillschmidt. This is Feliciano Vargas," Italy crooned into the phone. "Veee, Germany always sounds so serious when you answer the phone."

"I didn't look at the caller ID," Germany mumbled. "I thought it might have been someone from the office. Was there something you needed? The red light won't last much longer and it's dangerous to talk on the phone while driving."

"Oh, so Germany's on his way home, then?" Italy asked brightly. "Perfect timing! There's going to be a meteor storm tonight and I thought we could watch it together! It's supposed to start in about ten minutes so I just wanted to know when Germany would get here!"

Germany opened his mouth to say he'd pull into the garage in precisely five minutes and twenty-eight seconds, before a shaved ice stand in a nearby grocery store parking lot caught his eye. His mind was flooded with images of Italy's delighted smile as Germany came home with a large serving of shaved ice for the two of them to share as they watched the stars. He recalculated his arrival time, factoring in the amount of time it would take to order, receive and pay for the frozen treat.

"I'll be home in eight minutes and fifty three seconds," he replied.

"Ok!" Italy sang. "I'll be waiting for you on the back porch!"

"See you soon," Germany promised, ending the call and switching on his turn signal before setting his course for the nearby shaved ice stand.

* * *

The blond opened the back door silently and stepped out onto the porch. Italy was waiting for him as promised, his back to Germany and his face turned toward the heavens. The pretty little Italian was dressed in a lightweight sky blue tank top and khaki shorts, leaving plenty of skin exposed. A little shiver of pleasure ran down Germany's spine. He loved running his hands over that smooth, supple tan skin as he nibbled and kissed it. It was definitely high on Germany's list of favorite physical features of Italy's. That beautiful skin was calling to him. He approached Italy quietly, set the shaved ice aside and wrapped his arms around Italy's waist and chest, savoring the sensation of Italy's skin beneath his lips as he touched his first kiss to the little heart-shaped freckle on the back of Italy's neck. Italy started slightly in surprise at his touch.

"Oh! Germany's home!" Italy trilled. "Veee, you scared me!"

Germany kissed his lover's lips tenderly, his own curling into a small smile. "Has it started yet?"

"Not yet," Italy replied. "Germany has good timing; it should be starting in a few minutes!"

The taller man took a seat on the edge of the porch next to Italy, looping an arm around his waist. "I brought you something," he said quietly, passing Italy the heaping bowl of strawberries-and-cream-flavored shaved ice.

"Yay! Shaved ice!" the Italian gasped, clapping his hands joyfully. "Waah, I'm so happy! Thank you, Germany!"

Germany smiled and kissed him again, his heart warming at Italy's honest delight over something so small. Italy hummed cheerfully as he took a bite of his treat, his eyes slipping closed in sheer enjoyment. He offered the next spoonful to Germany, who blushed ever so slightly as he allowed Italy to feed it to him. Italy took Germany's arm and rested his cheek against his shoulder, prompting Germany to kiss the top of his head. The two of them sat in silence, side by side, sharing the shaved ice as they waited for the meteor storm to begin.

"I saw one!" Italy squealed suddenly, pointing up at the sky excitedly. "It's starting, Germany! I saw a shooting star!"

Germany turned his eyes toward the night sky, silently amused by his boyfriend's typical enthusiasm. Another meteor streaked by, closely followed by three or four more almost simultaneously. The German glanced down at his lover, leaning forward slightly so that he could see his eyes. They sparkled enchantingly with wonder, reflecting the shooting stars above. The sheer beauty of Italy's rich amber-colored eyes twinkling like that made Germany's heart clench. In his opinion, they, rather than the natural fireworks taking place above them, were the real attraction here.

"So many shooting stars," Italy marveled quietly. "I bet everyone's wishes are being granted tonight. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Hmph, you can't get everything you want just by wishing for it," Germany replied in his usual no-nonsense manner. "It takes hard work and dedication."

"But I got England sent home with a headache during the war by wishing on a star," Italy reminded him. "Why don't we just try it?

The taller man sighed. He supposed it couldn't hurt. "Ok, then."

The Italian's eyes slid closed as he made his wish. Germany mimicked him hesitantly.

_I wish that Germany and I could stay together, happy and in love forever._

_I wish that Italy and I could stay together, happy and in love forever._

The two of them opened their eyes and looked at each other.

"Veee, Germany's face is all red," Italy grinned. "I wish Germany could tell me what you wished for."

"I-If I do that, it won't come true," Germany stammered. Of course, he didn't really believe that; it was just a way of getting out of admitting his embarrassingly sappy wish to Italy.

"I know," the smaller man said wistfully. "I made a happy wish for the two of us."

Germany cleared his throat awkwardly. "…So did I."

"Wouldn't it be funny if we both wished for the same thing?" Italy asked with a bright smile. "If we both made the same wish at the same time, I'm sure it would come true."

Germany hugged Italy close. "That would be nice," he whispered softly into Italy's silky hair.


	3. Chapter 3

When Germany climbed into bed next to Italy that evening, he was in a pretty good mood. The day had been pleasantly productive without being overly stressful, he had managed to make it home to Italy at a very reasonable time, and Italy had prepared them what was probably in the quality range of a perfect five-star gourmet Italian meal. Now Germany had had his shower and was all ready to take his pretty little lover into his arms and cuddle him close as they drifted off to sleep together.

Things were going well so far; Italy's warm, contentedly purring body was curled up against him, brushing playful kisses to Germany's throat. Germany was running his nails lightly up and down Italy's bare back under his shirt, raising little goosebumps of pleasure wherever he touched. Italy's kisses traveled leisurely up his neck, and danced teasingly around his lips for a moment before giving in and planting one squarely on Germany's mouth.

"I love Germany so much," Italy whispered against his lips before kissing them again.

"I… ahem, I feel the same about you," Germany admitted, starting to blush before he could command himself not to do so.

"That's why I'm sorry I have to do this," the smaller man continued.

"Eh…?" was all Germany had time to get out before Italy shouted "TICKLE FIGHT!"

His slender fingers attacked Germany's tender ribs fiercely and unexpectedly. Germany just barely had enough self control to bite down on his own lip firmly to ensure that the ensuing bubble of laughter didn't escape his mouth. "S-Stop it…! Wha-ha… What are you…?"

"Germany better make a counter attack if he doesn't want to lose!" Italy chirped. "Veee, I might actually beat Germany in something related to fighting!"

"D-don't be…ri-ridiculous! H-how is it e-hee-even p-possible… to win a tickle fight?" Germany gasped. "Th-there's no-ho way to… keep s-score or…"

"The first one to make the other one laugh wins!" Italy chirped. "I'll be nice and not count those little tiny ones Germany did while he was talking!"

Germany was using so much energy and concentration not to burst out laughing to really even think about making launching a counterattack on Italy. He knew that if Italy's hands just strayed a little lower that cursed spot just above his waist where his ribcage ended he'd be a goner. _He knew that_ but he was powerless to stop it. Germany made a desperate effort to push Italy off of him, intending to wrap the blankets firmly around himself and curl into a ball so that Italy couldn't get him anymore but Italy was holding on tight. Allowing himself to laugh was out of the question; he couldn't let Italy hear that sound.

He had no chance of getting out of this with his dignity intact, it seemed, unless he tickled Italy. That of course was risky; he would have to lift his arms, which were clamped firmly to his sides, and thereby expose his weak spot. Germany tried to calculate his likelihood of success but his brain was flustered by the tickling and wasn't working properly. He decided to risk it, lifting his arms away from his ribs and making a grab for Italy's. It seemed that he was too slow, however. The second his ribs were exposed, Italy attacked his weak spot mercilessly.

Before Germany even had time to process his loss, he burst out laughing. It wasn't until Italy started to giggle in response to Germany's laughter that the bitterness of loss and humiliation sunk in. Germany hated his laugh. It was, in his opinion, girly and completely undignified. And Italy, who thought the world of him and always praised his strength and abilities, was quite possibly the last person to whom he wanted to reveal it. Now that Italy was no longer attacking, Germany rolled away and buried his face in his pillow, blushing to the roots of his golden hair. Even the back of his neck was scarlet.

"Germany has such a cute laugh!" Italy commented cheerfully. "It makes me kind of sad that I'd never heard it before!"

"Leave me alone!" Germany snapped. "It's bad enough without you picking on it too!"

"…Germany?" Italy said softly, the fondly amused tone vanishing from his voice to be replaced by concern. "Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?"

"It's humiliating!" he said bitterly. "I know that without other people rubbing it in! Prussia mocked me relentlessly about it growing up!"

Italy hesitated a moment before pressing a kiss to the back of Germany's neck and stroking his hair soothingly. "I'm sorry if I hurt Germany's feelings. I wasn't trying to make fun of it, I promise! I really like Germany's laugh!"

Germany shifted his head in the pillow just enough so that he could peer tentatively up at his lover, one eyebrow raised in disbelief and cautious hope that Italy was being sincere. Italy kissed him again.

"Just when I think I couldn't possibly love Germany any more than I already do, you reveal another wonderful part of yourself to me," the smaller man said softly. "And then, even though I already love Germany so much that it makes my chest hurt, I can't help loving you even more. Each part of you that Germany shares with me, even if it doesn't seem very pretty or important to Germany, is very, very special to me… So thank you."

"Italy…" Germany honestly didn't know how to reply to that. Before he had met Italy, he had often felt all alone in the world, ashamed of his own awkwardness and convinced that there was no one who could ever overlook all his flaws enough to actually want a relationship with him that was beyond mere acquaintances. He was pretty sure _he_ was the one who was so in love that it hurt. Not that he would ever say such a thing out loud.

"It doesn't have to be right away," Italy continued quietly, pressing a kiss to the recently exposed part of Germany's forehead, "but I hope someday Germany will feel comfortable enough to laugh in front of me without being embarrassed. I'll wait patiently for that day."

Germany drew a shuddering breath from between clenched teeth as the affection he felt for Italy swelled uncontrollably in his heart until he was afraid it would burst. "Hmph… Let's just go to bed. I'm turning off the lights now."

He reached over and switched off the lamp on the bedside table. After waiting for Italy to get under the covers, Germany curled his arms around his slender frame and pulled him close, letting Italy snuggle into him happily. His lips met Italy's shyly in a series of soft kisses. _Thank you…for accepting me._ Germany tried to force these words out verbally but he just couldn't do it. In the end, he tried to project the thought clearly in the direction of his already sleeping lover, hoping that the sentiment would reach him somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Now with a completely re-written ending! I think I like this better than the old one, but I'm still not sure I did it quite right…

* * *

The den was cold. Germany shivered and moved closer to the fire, bringing himself so close to the hearth that if he moved forward even an inch more, he'd burn himself on the glass that kept the smoke from flowing into the room. It didn't help; a fire's warmth wasn't what he was longing for. He shivered again and tried to focus once more in vain on the book he was trying to read. Germany had been staring at the same page for forty-five minutes. He always read before turning in for the night. Why was his normal routine so difficult tonight?

The words drifted in and out of focus before his distracted gaze, their meanings evading him. His antique grandfather clock ticked quietly in the corner and he felt tormented by each little noise it made, wondering if it was his imagination or some malfunction of the old clock that made the seconds pass so slowly. The old stuffed chair in which he sat, his favorite chair which he must have repaired so many times over the years as time wore on it that few of the original parts remained, was uncomfortable for the first time tonight. He shifted in it restlessly, wondering if it too was broken. Even his clothing irritated him tonight. Why didn't anything feel right?

Actually, he knew exactly why he felt this way; he was just loath to admit it, even to himself. The truth was that he was pining for Italy. _How utterly ridiculous_, he thought. _I'm not some adolescent experiencing his first crush. I'm a grown man, perfectly capable of rational thought and standing on my own two feet. I know that as soon as the elections are over, we'll be able to see each other. This is the last night. Just one more night alone and everything will be back to normal. _It was a country's duty to attend the speeches and political debates of his candidates during election time. This required extensive traveling within their country and prevented them from spending much time with anyone who wasn't involved in the campaign.

It had been a month since Germany had seen Italy face to face. Though Italy called him frequently, the physical distance between them made Germany's heart ache. He missed Italy's warmth, his scent, his touch. He longed for his hugs and smiles and kisses. Normally it irritated him, but right now he would give anything to have Italy come bounding into his study to interrupt his reading, requesting hugs and asking if he'd be done reading soon so they could cuddle in bed for a while before they went to sleep.

The ache in his chest worsened as he dwelled on the subject. He would feel so much better if he could even just hear Italy's voice right now. Calling was out of the question; he didn't want to interrupt if Italy was in the middle of something important. He knew how distractible Italy was; if he called now, there was a good chance Italy wouldn't go back to what he was supposed to be doing for the rest of the night even after they hung up. He could see only one option available to him. Germany got up from his chair, went to his desk and dug his MP3 player out of the drawer. He pushed the headphones into his ears as he went back to his place in front of the fire, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"Hey, will you listen to how I feel? I'm so, so in love… with pasta! I love pasta so much. You say you can see that without me telling you? But I want to say it over and over again, because I just love it so much. The world is made of precious flour and water!"

Germany let out a little breath, an expression of mild amusement for how well this song suited his lover, dulled by the pain of longing for him. But with his eyes closed this way and Italy's sweet voice singing clearly in his ears, he could almost fool himself into thinking that Italy would be there if he just opened his eyes. He kept them closed in order to maintain that illusion, rubbing his hands on his upper arms to simulate the warmth of Italy's touch. Germany willed himself to imagine the comforting weight of his lover in his lap where he belonged, wrapped safely in his arms, nice and close so that Germany could kiss him and whisper that he loved him at any time he chose.

"If I gaze vacantly at the sky, I can see lightly floating macaroni. I'm happy when I can savor it slowly, so let's go boil some water!"

Germany's brows furrowed as he told himself that Italy was in the kitchen right now making a post-dinner snack, pots and pans clinking together as he cooked, and that he could catch the tantalizing scent of thick, rich tomato sauce and fresh garlic bread baking. There it was, he could smell it clearly. Then came the energetic footsteps as Italy hurried into the study to invite Germany to join him in the kitchen and share his pasta. If he opened his eyes, he was certain that Italy's smiling face would greet him, a soft kiss would be touched to the tip of his nose and warm, artistic hands would take his and lead him into the dining area.

The images were so clear and sharp in his mind that he actually managed to fool himself for just the briefest moment that these things were really happening. Germany's eyes snapped open eagerly, but the only thing that greeted him was the sight of one of his dogs, Aster, lazing near the fire. Aster yawned, oblivious to his master's heartache. Germany sighed and turned his vacant, distracted gaze back to the dancing flames in the fireplace, crushed. It felt as though some invisible hand had closed around his heart and was squeezing. He gritted his teeth against the pain and closed his eyes again, willing the song to soothe him.

"The tomato box fairy will (hey, I'm the tomato box fairy!) transform your tears into sauce! Let's meet up when the sun comes out; that thought is piling up in my head like ravioli. I want to see your smile, so let's boil some water!"

He echoed those sentiments in his own head, hoping that by some miracle they would reach Italy and compel him to pick up the phone and give his poor lonely boyfriend a call.

* * *

Italy let himself in through the front door, sighing wearily. After all the hard work and traveling he'd had to do this month, running from his house to Germany's had really taken it out of him. He kind of hoped that Germany was already in bed. That way he could just fall in beside him and finally get a decent night's sleep, snuggled in Germany's embrace the way he was used to doing. The house was quiet; that was a good sign. Italy removed his shoes in the entryway and moved deeper into the house, heading for the bedroom. That was when he noticed the light on in Germany's study. He entered quietly, his bare feet padding softly on the carpet.

His heart leapt a little when he spied Germany reclining in the chair before the fire. His real, live Germany was there in the room with him; not a dream or some random citizen who happened to resemble him just enough to make Italy's heart ache. He hadn't yet noticed that Italy was there because his eyes were closed but if Italy just announced his presence, Germany would look at him and smile in that way that made Italy weak in the knees. Italy opened his mouth to call out to him but his voice caught in his throat when he looked more closely at his lover's face. Germany looked like he was in anguish. He wasn't crying, but he almost looked like he was thinking about it. Italy couldn't remember the last time he had seen Germany looking so sad. It broke his heart.

He approached him silently and reached out, touching his cheeks softly. Germany started violently at the unexpected touch, his eyes flying open. Italy, surprised by the sudden jerk, pulled his hands away reflexively. The two of them stared at each other a moment in stunned silence. Germany reached out and touched Italy's arm hesitantly, checking to make sure that he wasn't just seeing things. When he found that Italy was indeed real, a spectacular blush erupted on Germany's face. He jerked the headphones out of his ears, fumbled to turn of the music and stuffed the MP3 player hastily behind his back.

"I-Italy!" he stammered. "When did you… ! Aren't you supposed to be…! Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't stand to be away from Germany anymore so I came to see you," Italy breathed. "I know I'm not supposed to but I needed to be with Germany…"

Germany got up from his chair and threw his arms around Italy, hugging him tightly. Italy mimicked him, breathing a sigh of relief. Like an addict who had been going through withdrawal and was finally getting his fix, he felt as though his previously incurable restlessness was fading and he was returning to himself. Germany's warm, solid form filled the space between his arms, his face buried in his muscular chest, the light scent of Germany's cologne and skin filling his nostrils… there was nowhere else he'd rather be. He let out a happy little hum and kissed Germany's neck. Germany's thick fingers were threaded in his hair, stroking it reverently. After a moment, he scooped Italy into his arms and sat back down in the chair with him in his lap.

"Why did Germany look so sad?" Italy asked softly. "Were you listening to a sad song?"

Germany's cheeks reddened again. "It's nothing. I'm just glad you're back."

"If Germany is upset, I want to know why so I can help," Italy explained. "When Germany is sad, it makes me sad, too."

Italy's fingers met with the plastic of the MP3 player behind Germany's back and he fished it out. Germany made to snatch it away before Italy could see what song he'd been listening to, but Italy dodged his grasp with surprising agility.

"This… this is my song," Italy said in quiet awe. He lifted his stunned gaze to meet Germany's. "Germany was listening to my song…"

"I couldn't call," Germany mumbled, his face burning. "I might have interrupted you when you were in the middle of something important."

"Germany… Germany wanted to hear my voice so he…"

Italy stared at him for just a second more before leaning in and engaging his lips in a tender, passionate kiss. He pulled away slightly and moved in again, nibbling softly at his lover's mouth. God, how he'd missed this. Italy could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, so he broke the kiss and hid his face in the crook of Germany's neck.

"I listened to Germany's song, too," he sniffled. "I wondered if Germany really felt that way, if he was feeling that way right then… I… I always cried when I listened to it, but I c-couldn't turn it off… I missed Germany so much…"

Germany blushed brilliantly again; Italy, who had a voice like an angel, had heard his crappy amateur squawking. He supposed it had been silly of him to think it wouldn't reach Italy sooner or later when he'd allowed Japan to record it. Germany decided not to say anything. He was too relieved to have Italy back in his arms to be too upset by it. Germany rubbed Italy's back soothingly and kissed the top of his head as Italy's warm tears dampened his shirt where Italy was hiding his face.

"Are you ready to go to bed?" Germany asked after a while.

"Mm… I just wanna stay like this a little longer," Italy mumbled. "I'm so glad I can be with Germany. Let's never be apart again, ok?"

"It would be nice if that was possible," Germany admitted.

He looked down at the warm figure curled up in his arms and couldn't help smiling ever so slightly. It was funny how the world, in which everything had seemed so wrong only minutes ago, suddenly seemed so wonderful, just because this one silly, cheerful, affectionate crybaby was with him now. He kissed the rim of Italy's ear.

"I…I love you," he mumbled shyly, his cheeks warming again. Those words were still difficult for him to say, and even more difficult when he had to say them first, but for Italy he was willing to swallow his pride a little.

Italy turned his head so that he could return the kiss on Germany's lips. The gentle, sweet smile on his face made Germany's breath catch in his chest.

"I love Germany, too."


End file.
